Kapitel 5: Nicolas Flamel
Once more, Harry found himself in the room of requirement, his frustration mounting as his efforts to silently cast a stunning spell yielded no results. With the unexpected development of the previous day, he had not taken the chance to question Dippet, or even Dumbledore on the practice.
He wished he had.
After another morning of nothing, he had begun to wonder if he would ever manage it, but he shook his head of the negative thoughts.
For five years he had been taught wand movements and incantations. Switching from such a habitual practice would take more than a couple of days of practice, wouldn't it?
Regardless of his thoughts on the matter, he found himself having made no progress, and it was beginning to grate on him to no end.
Releasing a deep breath, he muttered a stunning spell.
It left the tip of his wand with practiced ease, and he narrowed his eyes.
What was he doing wrong?
Knowing he would find no answers for himself, he gathered his things before draping the cloak over his shoulders and taking his leave of the room.
It would serve him no purpose to continue practicing without having discussed his problem with the headmaster first.
He was due to see him soon enough, though he needed a shower first. As such, he headed back towards Gryffindor Tower to do just that.
He had been here for several days now and had gotten himself into a routine of sorts. Still, he did not feel he belonged here any more than he did the night he arrived.
He missed Ron, Hermione, and Sirius, of course. Despite the threat of Voldemort hanging over him, the losses he had endured and how he had lived, he missed his old life.
He was not so naïve to believe there was a chance he could go back, but he still held on to a little hope.
The previous night, he had laid awake for a while thinking.
He calculated that if he did remain in this timeline, by the time Ron and Hermione arrived at Hogwarts, he would be seventy-one. An old man, one much older than his own parents.
It was an unsettling thought at best, and one he chose not to dwell on.
For what would likely be a permanent thing, this was his life now and he needed to find a way to accept it, something that was much easier said than done.
"Hello, Harry," Minerva greeted him warmly as he entered the common room.
"How's it going?" he replied, offering her a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
Coming to terms with his new life was one thing but sharing the tower with his former Professor who was turning out to be nothing he expected was something else entirely.
The young Minerva McGonagall was quite vibrant, enthusiastic about Quidditch, and evidently an exhibitionist when she practiced magic.
Much to his relief, she seemed to be keeping that to her own room and he had not stumbled upon her in such a state of undress since the first and only time it had happened.
"Not bad," she answered cryptically. "I'm on my way to see Professor Dumbledore now."
"Have fun," Harry offered sincerely.
The girl was just as passionate about transfiguration as her much older counterpart, and as she nodded excitedly, her dark ringlets bouncing, he couldn't help but find just a little more respect for the stern woman he had come to know during his school years.
Being passionate about something was fantastic, but to maintain that same passion over six decades was something else.
"She must really love transfiguration," he chuckled once she had left through the portrait hole.
With Minerva gone, Harry ascended the stairs to his own room where he completed his morning ablutions before he too headed to where he needed to be.
"Ah, Harry," Dippet greeted him with his usual smile. "I trust that you slept well?"
"Not really," Harry snorted. "I'm still getting used to all this and the meeting with Flamel…"
"Understandable," Dippet replied sympathetically, "but for the next hour or so, you should put that all to the back of your mind. We still have work to do."
Harry nodded as Dippet drew his wand.
"I thought today that we would work on some Defence Against the Dark Arts," he announced. "From what I saw of your demonstrations already, I do not believe you need assistance with your OWL, so I am asking you what you would like to work on?"
"I am having trouble with non-verbal casting," Harry sighed.
Dippet gave him a knowing smile.
"No matter what you try, it doesn't seem to work?" he asked.
Harry nodded and Dippet chuckled.
"The only advice that I can give you, Harry, is that persistence pays," the headmaster replied. "When you achieve it, you will understand what I mean. The process of learning is different for everyone, and some never manage it. They give in to easily when their efforts seem to be for nought, but be patient, and it will happen. When it does, the work will be worth it."
"So, that's it? Just keep trying?"
Dippet nodded.
"Not very helpful, I know, but that is all. Patience and persistence."
"Then I'll just have to keep working on it," Harry huffed.
He should have known there was not a quick fix to the problem, but he at least expected something from the man other than to be patient.
"Oh, it appears that Albus is going to be joining us," Dippet spoke, breaking into Harry's thoughts. "Come in," he called.
The door opened to admit Dumbledore and a rather keen Nicholas Flamel who eyed Harry speculatively as he entered the room.
"Surely you can't be done already?" Dippet greeted the alchemist.
"Why ever not?" Flamel answered cheerily. "Having taken some time to ponder it, and receiving some advice from my wife, it proved to be a rather trivial, albeit complex matter. If young Harry here is amenable, I would like to invite him for brunch with my wife and I?"
"Now?" Harry asked.
"There is no time like the present," Nicholas returned.
Harry looked to Dippet who nodded.
"I think spending some time with Nicholas and his wife would be much more beneficial to you than sitting here with me this morning," the headmaster said. "Worry not, Harry, our lessons will continue tomorrow."
"Perhaps, a few days from now," Nicholas broke in. "I am hoping that young Harry here will be willing to complete his healing today. He may need a little time to recover afterwards."
"Of course," Dippet replied. "You will keep Albus and I in the loop?"
Flamel nodded.
"That can be arranged," he agreed. "Come, Harry."
"Will I need to bring anything?"
"Just yourself, and a little faith," Flamel answered as he headed towards the door.
Harry followed but felt his arm gripped gently by Dumbledore as he made to pass him.
"Honesty is always the best policy, Harry," he said pointedly, though not unkindly.
With a nod of encouragement, he released the teen and Harry followed in the wake of the alchemist.
Had Dumbledore said something to Flamel? Why would he offer such odd advice if he hadn't?
He felt suddenly nervous, and it was not only due to the impending procedure he was likely to endure. Why would the Flamels want to share a meal with him.
"As convenient as it would be to borrow Albus's wonderful companion, I would not wish for you to be harmed by my wards. The same can't be said for Ames, but Perenelle insists he is not harmed too much," he muttered.
"Ames?" Harry questioned confusedly.
"Ah, my muggle neighbour," Nicholas explained. "A thorn in my side, but with his diet, he'll be gone in a few years."
The answer did little to alleviate Harry of the confusion he felt, nonetheless, he shrugged and followed the man through the gates of the castle.
"Have you ever travelled by portkey before, Harry?"
Harry nodded.
It was not a pleasant experience but was the next best thing to apparating according to Sirius.
"Then this will not feel unfamiliar to you," Nicholas said as he took him by the arm.
The feeling of being hooked through the navel was overwhelming, and Harry felt himself being spun uncomfortably through the void.
He stumbled upon landing at their destination but was held steady by Flamel who offered him a grin.
"Welcome to my home," he said, gesturing towards the house beyond the large iron gates they found themselves in front of. "Best not dally too long, Perenelle is quite the stickler for punctuality, but first."
The man drew his wand, muttering under his breath in a language Harry did not understand before tapping him on the head smartly, sending a chill running through the teen's veins.
"Unpleasant, I know, but the wards protecting this property are excellent. The cold will shift before we reach the house," Nicholas assured him as he pushed open the gates.
Once more, Harry followed the man.
The grounds were rather modest for the house that sat within them. It was a grand building, more modern than he would have expected from someone who had lived as long as his companion.
"We brought the estate when it was first built some 250 years ago," Nicholas explained. "Perenelle wished for a change of scenery, and we have been here since. It's a nice place to be."
"Even if you have to tolerate Ames?" Harry asked.
Nicholas's nostrils twitched irritably.
"Even with him just on the other side of that wall," he grumbled, pointing in the distance to where the next home along could be seen.
Harry said nothing and followed the man into the home once he had opened the door.
If Nicholas was wealthy, he wasn't one to show it off.
The décor was rather neutral and there didn't appear to be anything grand to be seen other than the expanse of space he seemingly occupied with only his wife.
"You seem disappointed," the man chuckled. "You will find if you live as long as I have that material things are of little use. Why waste gold on expensive paintings and whatnot? No, my wife and I appreciate the simpler things that life has to offer, Harry. We like to have a nice home, eat well, and enjoy going to the theatre. Neither of us have ever been particularly inclined towards much, though we have our vices. Perenelle is a collector of rare flowers."
"What about you?" Harry asked.
Nicholas smirked as he led him to a door just of the entrance hall and opened it.
"I quite enjoy muggle weaponry of old," he revealed.
The room was enormous, and the walls lined with an array of swords, axes, bows and many other arms that Harry did not recognise.
"That's quite a collection," he said appreciatively.
"Quite," Nicholas agreed. "There is something rather noble about two men fighting to the death with only a blade in hand. It's a shame that guns came along to replace them. I used to quite enjoy the duels," he finished longingly.
"Do you watch wizard duels?" Harry asked.
Flamel nodded.
"Occasionally. It is not the same, but entertaining, nonetheless. Do you wish to be a duellist?"
Harry shrugged.
"I used to want be an auror. I'm not so sure anymore."
Nicholas offered him an understanding smile.
"You're young yet. You will likely change your mind on what career you wish to pursue several times before the need to choose arrives. Come, I can show you around here any time you like. We will be late if we do not leave now."
Again, Harry found himself following the alchemist, this time through the halls of his home until he reached a set of double doors.
When they entered, it was to the sight of an aged woman placing food upon the large placed in the middle of the room.
"You couldn't resist showing off your collection?" she commented, her eyes alight with amusement.
"He asked," Nicholas defended, eliciting a shake of his wife's head.
"And you must be Harry," she said, greeting him with a warm smile.
Harry nodded, unsure on how to address the woman, who noticed this.
"You may call me Perenelle," she offered. "We care little for formalities. Please, take a seat and have some food. You will need your strength."
Harry did so and helped himself to some bread and butter when the Flamels joined him, a brief silence falling over the trio as they ate.
"I hear that you know of my husband's work, Harry," Perenelle spoke curiously. "How did you become familiar with it? Do you wish to replicate his achievement?"
Harry shook his head firmly.
Thus far, his life had seemingly been one disaster after another. Living six centuries if it continued the way it had been was the last thing he wanted. No, a regular number of years were more than sufficient, so long as he was able to enjoy them.
"I just came across the name," he answered somewhat truthfully.
He had, of course, searched for it during his first year of Hogwarts when Hagrid had let it slip in his hut, but had found nothing in the library. The only information he did have on Flamel was what he had read on the back of Dumbledore's chocolate frog card and what his headmaster himself had told him.
Perenelle eyed him speculatively for a moment before nodding her acceptance.
"I see, well, why don't you tell us about yourself? Surviving the killing curse is unheard of, and encountering a basilisk? You have lived an interesting life for one so young."
"I wish I hadn't," Harry muttered. "There's not that much to tell," he shrugged. "My parents were murdered, and I lived with my muggle relatives."
"I suspect that they were rather unpleasant judging by your expression?"
"They could have been better," Harry agreed with a sigh. "They didn't like magic."
Perenelle offered him a look of sympathy.
"Were they unkind to you?"
"I do not think that is an appropriate question," Nicholas interjected.
"No, it isn't, you have my apologies, Harry," Perenelle offered sincerely.
Harry waved the woman off.
It was odd being asked such a thing. The only other person that had taken enough interest in him to ask had been Sirius.
"No, the pertinent question I do have is how you managed such a significant journey through time?" Nicholas spoke.
Harry froze in his seat.
"Worry not, Harry," he continued comfortingly. "No body told me, but the memory you provided me with gave me more than enough information. I confronted Albus with my suspicions, and no matter how long the boy studies occlumency, I can see through any lie he would tell."
"What information?" Harry asked.
"Well, firstly, your name was carved into the headboard of your cot," Nicholas began. "I know of only one Potter family, and certainly only one that has ever resided in Godric's Hollow. A single look out of the window confirmed that for me. It is a rather famous dwelling after all."
Harry conceded the point with a nod. He should have considered there may have been things in what he provided that could have given him away.
"The most obvious, however, was the rather wonderful watch your mother wore. Not only did it tell the time, but also the date," the alchemist revealed. "Living six hundred years, I often forget what year or even decade it is, but I know that we are still quite away from 1981."
He didn't appear to be irritated, merely curious, and the last words Dumbledore spoke to him before he left Dippet's office only a short while ago replayed in his mind.
'Honesty is the best policy.'
"I didn't do it intentionally," Harry replied after a moment's pause. "I only wanted to go back six hours, but it brought me back six decades."
"That is unfortunate," Nicholas mumbled. "Luckily for you, I noticed, or the ritual I will carry out could have had some rather unpleasant consequences. Time travel of any sort leaves a mark, and it had to be accounted for."
"I'm sorry," Harry returned. "I just thought it was best that I keep it to myself. Only Dumbledore, Professor Dippet and one other know."
"And now us," Perenelle broke in softly. "We are not in the habit of sharing secrets," she assured him.
Harry nodded gratefully.
"Now, why don't you tell us about yourself," she urged. "It would be good for you and us both if we know exactly who you are and the events that led to us meeting."
Releasing a deep breath, Harry told him of his childhood with the Dursley's and how he discovered that he was a wizard. It was when he reached the occurrences of his first year of schooling that he hesitated for a moment.
"The reason I know your name was because, and I don't know why, Professor Dumbledore was in possession of your stone. He was keeping it safe in Hogwarts and the man that murdered my parents tried to steal it."
Nicholas frowned thoughtfully.
"I suppose that if I thought the stone was in danger, Albie would be the only one I trust to keep it safe. We may be immune to the ravages of time and illness, but we can still be killed. The elixir of life is a marvellous thing, but not infallible. Do continue."
"Well, no one believed me when I told them what was happening, so myself and my friends went looking for it. Not for ourselves," he added quickly, "but so Voldemort didn't get it."
"And you found it?"
Harry nodded.
"Dumbledore had hidden inside the Mirror of Erised. Only someone who wanted the stone, but not to use it could retrieve it," he explained. "When Voldemort made me look in the mirror, it appeared in my pocket."
"But he didn't get it?"
"No," Harry replied. "I think I killed the man he was possessing. He tried to kill me, but when I touched him, it burned him badly."
"Your mother's protection," Nicholas acknowledged. "Well, I must say that your intentions must have been noble. Albie was so very proud when he acquired that mirror and spent many years studying it. If he placed such an excellent intent-based ward within it, then I have no doubt that it worked as planned. You demonstrated an unheard level of selflessness with what you did, Harry. There are many who would do anything to take possession of our stone."
"Even now our lives are occasionally threatened by them," Perenelle added. "So long as we live, there will be those that try to take it for themselves."
"Indeed," Nicholas said gravely. "Anyway, do proceed with your most enthralling tale. I am curious to hear of the rest of your feats."
For the first time in his life, Harry unburdened himself of all he had experienced to two people he barely knew. In an odd way, the more he spoke, the better he felt, and by the time he was finished, he was emotionally exhausted, his life story culminating in the death of his godfather.
"You poor dear," Perenelle said sadly, "and yet, you live through all of this and remain such a sweet and caring boy."
Nicholas nodded his agreement.
"You are resilient, Harry," he said seriously, "but if there is one piece of advice I could give you, it would be push back harder than you are pushed. There are those that will try to walk all over you. Do not allow them to. You are strong enough to do so, but perhaps a little less kindness is needed at times."
"I know," Harry acknowledged with a sigh. "I've learnt that with what happened to Sirius. He told me the same, but it didn't change anything until it was too late."
"A harsh lesson," Nicholas murmured, "but so long as you do learn from it, his death will not be in vain."
Harry nodded.
"We do not ask you these things to only sate our curiosity, Harry," Perenelle spoke once more. "I insisted upon it, because the ritual Nicholas wishes to carry out to heal you will require the use of our blood. I needed to be sure of the young man you are before I agreed to help you but speaking with you today has made up my mind. If you are amenable, of course, I would like to offer my assistance."
Harry frowned confusedly.
"Blood, as you know from your experience of the ritual you witnessed, is a powerful and sacred ingredient. Even the most basic understanding of alchemy will tell you that," Nicholas explained. "The reason we need to use ours, however, is not because ours is special, but because of what it contains."
"The elixir of life," Perenelle clarified.
Nicholas offered his wife a grateful smile.
"I could simply use the elixir as the key ingredient, but you would then become reliant on it to survive. In our blood, it will be diluted enough to do what is required without that side-effect. The reason we are discussing this with you, however, is that once our blood is mixed with your own, it will be a permanent change. For all intents and purposes, we would become related through it."
Harry swallowed deeply.
That sounded rather important as it did ominous.
"What effect will that have on me?"
"Nothing detrimental," Nicholas assured him, "but we wished to be as transparent with you as you have been with us. I will not press you for an answer now, but I think it best to proceed with the ritual as soon as possible, if you agree, of course."
"You would have no obligations to us," Perenelle assured him. "We only wish to help you, and even more so having heard your story. You are a good boy, Harry, and I would see you rid of the final vestiges of that monster."
Harry nodded his understanding.
Ever since he had learned what his scar was, he had become more aware of it than usual, felt sickened by the taint of Voldemort that resided within him. If this was the only way to be rid of it, it was better than having it remain.
"I'd like to go through with it," he said. "Anything to get him out of there."
Perenelle smiled warmly at him.
"Then you had best eat up," she urged. "Ritualistic magic is not something to be taken lightly."
Harry did so, already feeling better for making the acquaintance of the woman and the man before him.
"When you are ready, we have prepared a room to carry out our work," Nicholas explained.
Harry finished his last mouthful of food and gestured that he was.
Nervously, he followed the Flamels from the room and down a set of dark stairs only a short walk away through the adjoining hall into a large cellar.
In the centre, a stone table had been placed and a circle of runes carved into the floor. Having never taking the subject, he recognised none, but Perenelle rubbed his shoulder reassuringly.
"As someone who has studied the practice for more than five centuries, I like to think I have acquired some skill in the art," she chuckled. "You need only remove your shirt, and we can begin."
Harry complied, the chill of the room making his hairs stand on end and skin become awash with goosebumps.
"So, what happens now?" he asked.
"Well, Perenelle will do much of the work," Nicholas explained. "She is much more versed in runic magic than I. I merely gathered the required ingredients and completed the calculations. Come, I will explain some of what will be used to cleanse you of the soul piece."
Harry took a seat on the table, next to an odd array of things one would expect to find in an apothecary. Looking at them, he recognised very few.
"Now, there are very few things that can compare to the power of a mother's love," Nicholas began as Perenelle checked over her work. "Removing such magic would be difficult, and inadvisable. It is still within you, and I would see it remain so, if only for you to have a piece of her left."
Harry nodded gratefully.
"The plan is not to attempt to remove it but add an even stronger protection that would supersede that of your mother's magic. What will happen is that the new magic will not recognise the soul piece as threat, but as something your body can use, very much like it has with the basilisk venom. I suspect that any other bite from a serpent would have little affect on you because of the presence of the superior venom with in you. Understand?"
"That makes sense," Harry acknowledged. "Even when I was bitten by an acromantula, I wasn't as sick as I probably should have been. I didn't think of it much since that happened the same night he came back."
"An excellent example," Nicholas praised. "Now, do lay down, Harry, we will begin shortly."
The stone against his back was uncomfortably cold, and rough in certain places that it had not been smoothed down.
"Now, for the ingredients," the alchemist continued. "Of course, you already know that we will be using just a little blood from each of us, but there are other things I felt poignant to include. You have a strong connection with Dumbledore's companion, and he was kind enough to provide a feather and a tear when I asked him, but not until I explained what they were for," he chuckled. "That coupled with a sample of your blood will be a strong catalyst for the ritual, so I will ask you to provide us with a phial. The only downside to it, if you see it that way, is that your already strong connection with the basilisk that bit you will become stronger also. If you can, I would see it as a boon. Basilisks are resilient creatures, much like yourself."
Harry nodded.
As much as he tried to ignore it over the years, the basilisk venom was as within him as much as Fawkes' tears were.
He hadn't really explored his relationship with serpents, the connection they had to Voldemort leaving him unwilling to do so.
Perhaps investigating it would prove to be beneficial?
That, however, was for another day.
"The rest are rather inane," Nicholas continued, "just some plants and a few other ingredients that will assist with powering the runes. Any questions?"
"Only one," Harry replied. "In Professor Dippet's office, you said that ritualistic magic requires a sacrifice, an equal one to what the benefits you would receive for it to work. What am I sacrificing here?"
Nicholas smiled appreciatively.
"I'm glad to see you were paying attention," he praised. "For this, you are sacrificing some of your blood, and some of the benefits your mother's protection has afforded you. I do not believe it to be much of a loss since they have been nullified by the man that stole your blood for his own ritual, but more than enough for this to work. It is like I said, Harry, there is little else more powerful than that of a love of a mother."
"I just need his blood, Nicholas," Perenelle broke in.
"Ah, of course. Harry, if you would be so kind to pass me your arm?"
The man's grip was strong, but not overly tight as he drew his wand and place the tip on the scar the basilisk had left behind.
"I see no reason to damage you further," he said with a grin. "This will sting a little."
The resulting spell stung, and Harry grimaced as Nicholas squeezed to wound to bleed it. He continued with his efforts until he had a phial full of red, viscous liquid that he held up towards the dim light to inspect.
"You have strong blood," he mused aloud. "Strong blood indeed. Perenelle, when you're ready, I believe Harry is as keen as I to have this over with."
Perenelle nodded and approached the table, leaning over and placing a kiss on his forehead.
"This will hurt more than that little cut," she whispered sadly.
The words were foreboding, and Harry braced himself as she began to speak in a language he did not understand.
At first, it felt as though nothing was happening, but the room grew steadily warmer, and an odd pressure filled his head as though it was slowly being filled with water.
Then the burning began.
It filled his veins, and as he looked down, he could see three phials hovering above the wound in his arm, all being emptied into the wound that Nicholas had created.
For as long as he could, he resisted screaming, but the pain became overwhelming, and that was all he knew.
He could no longer see the room he was in, had been blinded to everything other than the agony tearing through his body.
After an inordinate amount of time of this, it suddenly felt as though his head had been ripped wide open, but then it was gone as suddenly as it had started.
He didn't know if he had passed out or was hallucinating, but he caught glimpses of his own life flashing before his eyes, and images of another.
A rabbit hung from the rafters…Two children screaming in pain within a cave, pleading to be left alone… Person after person being held under the Cruciatus Curse, tortured, and then murdered…
It was harrowing to say the least, but the worst thing was the enjoyment he felt by witnessing these atrocities, the sense of satisfaction at having his revenge against those that Harry knew had never slighted him.
These were the thoughts of Tom Riddle, the Dark Lord, he realised, as the piece of soul was allowed to merge with his own.
In this moment, he regretted going through with the ritual, but it was too late to change his mind now.
That was his last thought before he did lose consciousness, the images fading and being replaced by darkness.
"That was awful," Perenelle sighed. "Nicholas, check on him."
Her husband had paled considerably, evidently not having accounted for such a volatile reaction.
Nicholas stepped forward to check on the teen. A lesser person would likely not have survived what Harry had just endured, and the aged alchemist breathed a sigh of relief as he spotted the chest of the boy inhaling and exhaling, albeit rapidly.
"He's alive," he announced.
"Then let us get him somewhere warm," Perenelle insisted. "His body will need to recover."
Carefully, Nicholas stabilised Harry before levitating him from the room, followed by his concerned wife.
"Did we do the right thing?" she asked worriedly.
Nicholas nodded.
"I believe that when he has recovered, Harry will be grateful for our assistance," he said confidently. "Imagine living your life carrying a piece of the soul of the man that murdered your parents."
Perenelle shook her head.
"He has had a trying life."
"That he has," Nicholas agreed. "I hope now that he can move forward and live one that will be much kinder to him."
"And this prophecy?"
Nicholas could only shrug.
"If it is meant to be, it will come to pass, but Harry is strong. With what he has already endured, I think a final battle with the man that has caused him so much misery would be a fitting ending. Whether he wins or loses, that is up to him. Anyway, that is many years from now," he added dismissively. "I would see him healthy, and I will need to visit Albie. I did promise to keep him and Armando informed of his progress."
"Then you do that," Perenelle urged. "I will watch over him for a while."
"Of course, but I would like to check him over first to ensure that our efforts were indeed successful."
(Break)
The day had dragged slowly. Armando had tried to busy himself with his work but found himself unable to concentrate through his concern for Harry. Albus too had been similarly restless, the man not having left the office either.
"How long do these things take?" the headmaster huffed.
Dumbledore shook his head.
"I do not know," he sighed, "but Nicholas will give us an update as soon as possible. We must be patient, Armando."
Dippet nodded.
He knew little of such magic, but if it was as severe as Flamel claimed, it could be a while.
With that in mind, he turned his attention back to his work, half-heartedly reading through the various missives he received in his capacity of headmaster of a prestigious school.
Many of the letters were from eager parents, wishing to know when they could expect to receive the examination results for the year. To them, he wrote out a simple reply explaining that it was at the discretion of the Department of Magical Education when they would be released, but from experience, he knew it would not be for a few weeks yet at least.
Results would reach the students towards the end of the summer. It had been this way for as long as he could remember as an educator, though the school owls would be busy informing the families of this.
It was the same every year. These letters would always be received so long as the exams took place, and as he finished writing the final note to Mr Ogden, the fireplace flared into life and a rather tired Nicholas Flamel entered the room.
"How is he?" Armando asked immediately, forgetting the queries of the parents in favour of his need of information regarding Harry.
"He is doing well," Nicholas answered, eliciting a collective breath of relief from him and Albus. "It was an unpleasant experience for him, but he is already on the road to recovery with no signs of a foreign soul plaguing him any longer."
"Thank Merlin," Armando sighed. "There are no ill effects?"
"I do not think so, but he is yet to wake, and I do not expect he will in the coming hours. What he underwent was rather extensive and will take time to recover from, but I can assure you, he is in safe hands. Perenelle has taken it upon herself to oversee his care and I do expect that he will wake feeling better than he has in years."
"Thank you, Nicholas," Dumbledore offered sincerely.
Flamel waved him off.
"I helped a boy that proved to be worthy of it. He has endured much through his life, and I only wish to see him thrive. If he is to continue his education here, I want assurances from both of you that will happen."
"Of course," Armando replied, affronted. "The welfare of my students is of paramount importance to me."
Dumbledore nodded his agreement.
"Good," Nicholas declared. "I will be watching him closely, as I suspect will my wife. You remember what it is like to get on the wrong side of her, Albie."
Dumbledore chuckled, seemingly at a memory of doing just that.
"I do."
"Then you will not underestimate me when I say that she has already become fond of Harry. He is an exceptional boy and made quite the impression on her, the same way that you did when you first arrived in our home all those years ago."
"That is perfectly understood," Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling. "He has made quite the impression on us all, I believe."
Armando nodded agreeably.
"Then I have no issue with him returning," Nicholas declared. "I only ask that you keep us updated with his progress and allow us to visit him from time to time. I'm certain Perenelle will insist upon it also."
"That can certainly be arranged," Armando confirmed.
"Then there is little more to be said," Nicholas returned as he approached the fireplace once more. "When he is ready to return, he will."
With that, the alchemist was gone, and Armando looked towards his subordinate questioningly.
"What on earth was that about?"
Dumbledore frowned.
"I would not even speculate," he sighed. "Nicholas will not disclose such, but I suspect that there was more to the ritual than we know."
"Anything to be concerned about?"
Dumbledore shook his head.
"No. Nicholas would never give me cause for such, but his protectiveness over Harry does raise questions, though none we will have answered. We must merely wait and see the outcome for ourselves and hope that all is well with him."
(Break)
He was warm and comfortable. That was the first thing Harry felt as his vision began clearing and he realised that he was no longer laid upon the stone table in the Flamel's cellar. The bed he found himself in was large, the room dimly lit by the sun that peered through the slight gap in the drawn curtains.
For a while, he remained where he was, pondering how he felt, if there were any noticeable differences, and if the ritual had worked at all.
He couldn't be certain.
When he sat up, the room spun, disorientating him for a few moments before it settled, and the sudden bout of nausea passed.
Vomiting on a floor that did not belong to him would not do, and though he managed to avoid it, it had been close call.
Steadying his trembling legs as he pushed himself to his feet, he took a deep breath, pleased that he felt somewhat normal if only a little tired.
The ritual had evidently taken a lot out of him, but he was no worse for wear for it, no worse than the sleep he had waken from after the basilisk had bit him around three years prior at least.
"How are you doing, Harry?" Perenelle asked as she entered the room, an expression of relief aimed his way.
"I'm okay," he assured the woman. "I felt a little sick, but it passed."
Perenelle nodded.
"Are you hungry?"
"I am," Harry replied, realising that he was feeling rather famished.
"I'm not surprised. You have been out for the best part of three days."
"Three days?"
"You needed the rest. It was quite the ordeal you endured," Perenelle reminded him. "Come, we will find Nicholas and then get you some food. I suspect he will be on his balcony working on putting Mr Ames into an early grave."
Harry snorted and followed the woman from the room.
"What is his problem with Mr Ames?" he asked curiously.
Perenelle released the laboured sigh of a woman who'd had her patience relentlessly tested.
"Nicholas does not like people as a rule, with only a few exceptions. You must remember, over the course of six centuries, we have seen the best and the worst the world has to offer. Nicholas tends to remember the latter more than the former and it has tainted his view of people overall. My husband is a brilliant man but does not suffer those he deems to be foolish."
Harry nodded his understanding, a slight grin tugging at his lips.
"And here he is," Perenelle announced quietly as they came upon the man.
Nicholas was wearing a sweater-vest, a flat cap and had a lit pipe hanging from the corner of his mouth as he took aim with his golf club.
"Throw dogshit over my wall, will you?" he muttered, cheering jubilantly as the sound of breaking glass was heard in the distance.
Perenelle huffed frustratedly, garnering the man's attention.
"Ah, Harry," he greeted the teen, choosing to ignore the look of chastisement his wife sent his way. "It's good to see you up. How're you feeling?"
"Fine, I think," Harry responded uncertainly.
Nicholas offered him an encouraging smile.
"Well, the procedure was a success, and you look all the healthier for it," he observed. "You may not notice any immediate changes, but you may well do with time. This is a unique occurrence, after all, so we can't know what to expect as time goes on."
"Nothing bad I hope," Harry replied.
"No," Nicholas said with certainty. "If there were to be any ill-effects, they would be immediately obvious. I suspect you will be as you were for the most part, but there is a chance you may reap some benefits from the soul piece you have absorbed."
"I don't see what part of Voldemort could be beneficial," Harry muttered.
"Was he not a gifted wizard?" Nicholas asked. "Despite the things he did, can you not acknowledge that he was talented?"
Harry's mind drifted back to the duel he had witnessed between the Dark Lord and Dumbledore. Reluctantly, he conceded the point with a nod.
"He was."
"And he has unwittingly bestowed a very rare gift upon you, has he not? Parselmouths are almost unheard of in this day and age. At the very least, you have a new branch of magic to explore."
"I can use it for magic?" Harry asked, surprised.
"It is a magical language," Flamel pointed out. "I would not pretend to be in the know as one who cannot speak nor understand it, but yes, there are tales of those that have used it to great effect. I may even have some books in the library I have accumulated over the years that may help you. I will have a look and pass them on."
"You don't have to do that," Harry replied.
"Well, they will serve me little purpose," Nicholas chuckled. "I would like you to have them. I will be interested to see how you develop in the art."
"Thank you," Harry said sincerely, realising the man would not take no for an answer.
"You're very welcome," Nicholas returned with a smile. "Now, I don't suspect that you will want to spend the remainder of your summer with us old sods. Contrary to popular belief, we are not the most interesting of people, especially not for a fifteen-year-old boy with such a wondrous castle at his disposal. Let us have lunch, and then I will return you to Hogwarts. Albus did say that you had your OWLs to complete before the new term begins."
"I do," Harry confirmed.
"Good. Then let us eat and your journey can continue. We do, however, expect you to write and allow us an occasional visit. We have grown rather fond of you, and we do share blood, after all."
"That is non-negotiable," Perenelle added amusedly as Harry stared at the duo, perplexed.
He could only nod, a sense of warmth filling him.
He was growing quickly fond of the Flamels. Nicholas was perhaps the most interesting man he had met. He was quirky in his own way, perhaps a little bent on revenge for a rather trivial slight, but as Perenelle had said, still brilliant.
The woman was kind, and Harry had very little experience of kind women throughout his life, other than Mrs Weasley.
Where the redhead could be quite overbearing with her mothering ways, Perenelle seemed to be a little more balanced; warm but likely firm when she needed to be.
Regardless, Harry owed them, and though it did not feel like a debt of burden, he did not wish for them to feel used for what they had done for him. He was grateful, and the least he could do was write to them, and spend time with him, though he could not fathom why they would insist upon such a thing.
Still, a part of him was pleased they wanted to.
He didn't have many people in this world, and as far as allies went, he could think of none better he could have made the acquaintance of than Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel.
He was still reeling from the loss of Sirius, his friends, and the sudden, unplanned trip so far back in time, but with the rest of the summer ahead of him, no Voldemort to hunt him down, life could certainly be much worse.
Harry could not deny that it could be better also, but for now, he would take what he could.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein